


Pullin' Punches

by backtoblack101



Series: 107 One Armed Push Ups [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Peggy Carter, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backtoblack101/pseuds/backtoblack101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As far as Angie was concerned someone as prim and proper as Peggy Carter couldn't possibly be the kinda girl to get into fights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pullin' Punches

**Author's Note:**

> This entire idea stems from the fact that I'm sure Peggy must have to re-do her nail polish constantly with all the fighting she does.

“So English, you’re tellin’ me you beat guys up… like for a livin’?” Angie’s brow quirked curiously.

They were curled up at opposite ends of the long couch in their living room, a fire burning in the hearth in front of them and a glass of peach schnapps cradled in each of their hands. Peggy’s explanation had been a long one, full of half stories and name changes, and Angie had been captivated by every word, staying silent until Peggy had finally stopped, offering a shrug of her shoulders as an ineloquent ending to the tale.

“Among other things, yes,” Peggy chuckled; murky accounts of government espionage, secret military operations, and potential global threats and the one detail Angie had latched onto was the fact that Peggy sometimes threw a punch.

“I dunno English.” Angie’s eyes ran over Peggy slowly, and the agent tried her best not to squirm under the intensity of her stare. “Someone as prim and proper as you… I’ll believe it when I see it.”

-.-.-.-

It was a Friday evening, two months after their initial conversation, when Peggy was presented with a chance to prove herself to Angie – not that she’d ever considered it necessary to prove herself to anyone; it was just something about Angie that left Peggy itching to impress her.

The automat had been busy all day (not that Angie could complain, she did only work two days a week now after all) and by the time the last customer put down his fork, paid his bill, and walked out the door Angie was sure her legs were about to give up on her.

“English,” Angie started mellow dramatically, casting a deject gaze at her friend sitting at the counter.  “Please tell me we still have some o’ that scotch in the press?” Her arms were propped out against the counter to hold her up and she wiggled one leg at a time to make sure her feet were just numb, and hadn’t simply fallen off half ways through her day.

“If not I’m sure we’ll find a suitable substitute in Howards wine cellar,” Peggy reassured her friend before draining the last drops of tea from her cup and setting it back down. “Now how about I clear the tables while you sweep up out the back and-“

Peggy’s sentence died in her throat however when the automat door was pushed open again and three young men crowded through the entrance, each of them with a hard set expression, wide built shoulders, and one with a knife clutched in his gloved fist for good measure.

“Evenin’ ladies,” the man with the knife began, his cocky grin reminding Peggy all too well of disrespectful cadets she’d had to put back in their place during the war. “Now we’re not here to cause trouble…” he explained as he approached Angie at the till, a second man following him while the third turned his attention to Peggy. “But we’ll be needin’ what’s in that cash drawer right there.” He tapped the till with the blade of his knife and smirked up at Angie.

Before Angie had a chance to react to the request however Peggy huffed out a long exasperated sigh, turning all attention in the room on her. “You got a problem lady?” The man that approached her snarled and it took everything Peggy had not to laugh at how he puffed out his chest at the same time, more than likely in an attempt to intimidate her.

“Yes actually,” she replied, her tone clipped. “I just re-painted my nails and now the polish is going to end up chipped.” From the corner of her eye Peggy saw Angie’s wide eyed expression, but she didn’t react to it, instead keeping her focus trained on the man in front of her, waiting for him to make the first move.

He smirked and looked back at his two friends and part of Peggy thought to hit him right then and there, teach him never to take his eyes off the enemy, though she waited until he turned back round, waited until he raised his hand and balled it into a fist. She waited until he swung forward and then she caught his wrist and twisted it back so fast the smirk barely had time to fall from his face before his arm was pinned behind his back. Then in the same swift movement her free hand caught the back of his head and slammed it off the counter, knocking him out cold.

His friend was running at her before he’d hit the floor and she swung her fist out, her knuckles colliding with the side of his face and sending him staggering into one of the tables. She didn’t wait for him to recover his balance though and instead she stepped towards the man with the knife, dodging him twice as he swung the blade at her.

It was on the third swing that she caught his wrist, squeezed it and twisted it away from his body, the cry of pain almost as satisfactory as the clang of the blade on the tiled floor. Then without missing a beat her knee shot up to collide with his stomach, and once he doubled over her elbow drove in between his shoulder blades. Finally she swung her fist into the side of his face, knocking him out cold next to his friend.

She turned back to the second thug she’d punched then, and found him already running towards her, the side of his face red and swollen and his hands ready to wrap around her neck.

He didn’t get a chance though; before Peggy could raise her foot in an attempt to kick him back into the table a plate flew out from behind her shoulder, hitting him square in the face and sending him staggering backwards with blood seeping out from the gash on the bridge of his nose.

After that all it took was a hard kick between the legs to incapacitate him and Peggy was able to turn back to Angie, who was standing behind the bar with a second plate in hand. “Good shot.”

“Couldn’t let you do all the work English,” Angie quipped, though the way her voice trembled and her body shook let Peggy know she was far from okay.

“Oh Angie, darling.” Any other time Peggy may think to be embarrassed by the term of endearment that slipped out, though right now her friend looked ready to pass out, and rather than allow herself to get caught up in what she may or may not feel towards the waitress she stepped around the counter and wrapper her arms around Angie’s shoulders, pulling her into a hug. “It’s fine, you’re fine.”

“Only cause of you though Peg.” Angie’s voice was muffled against Peggy’s shirt and it only made her seem more vulnerable. “Lord knows what’d have happened if you weren’t here.”

“I’m sure you’d have said something smart that would have landed you in even more trouble.” Peggy couldn’t resist the joke and she smiled when she felt Angie laugh against her chest.

“Shut up English and take me home.”


End file.
